


A Sinner’s Kind of Home

by Cydersyrup



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Afterlife, Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Angst, Blood and Violence, Character Death, Family Dynamics, Flashbacks, Friendship, Gen, Going to Hell, Heaven & Hell, Johnny's A Good Friend, Major Character Undeath, Major character death - Freeform, Mild Gore, Reconciliation, doyoung is disillusioned and tired and needs a hug, friendly love, whiskey conversations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-02
Updated: 2020-06-02
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:20:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24504532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cydersyrup/pseuds/Cydersyrup
Summary: It’s hard being in a gray zone after death, where Heaven and Hell are the only options.And for the most part, Doyoung sees himself as a good person.“You have been charged with arson, theft, murder, manslaughter, vehicular manslaughter, vandalism, cyberstalking, stalking, embezzlement, and causing a national security breach,” the official reads.Well then, if they had to put it that way...
Relationships: Kim Dongyoung | Doyoung & Suh Youngho | Johnny
Comments: 12
Kudos: 63





	A Sinner’s Kind of Home

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE READ BEFORE CONTINUING!!!
> 
> Be warned:  
> 1.There is major character death, violence, and some gory aspects  
> 2\. I define Hell differently than it would be in many religions, and it's not my intention to offend anyone. THIS IS ONLY FOR FICTION AND ENTERTAINMENT.  
> 3\. There is a lot of controversial topics, so if the idea of corrupt governments and martial law/civil wars/rebellion isn't your cup of tea, I'm warning you right now.  
> 4\. Remember, this is PURE FICTION! 
> 
> That being said, hope you enjoy!

When Doyoung dies, it’s fast and painless. 

A single shot, straight through his temple, fired from two hundred meters away. He had been targeted, and the shooter did their job well.

Honestly, Doyoung doesn’t expect anything less. In this world that he lives in, a good, long life and death by natural causes is almost never guaranteed. People drop dead left and right like flies everyday, and entire cities can be wiped out in the span of a week, sometimes less.

It’s not a bad end, in Doyoung’s opinion.

During life, he served his purpose. He spoke out against the corrupt government, staged riots against the martial powers guarding his county, and hacked the national security system down to its last file. He saved lives, he took lives, and for everything it’s worth, Doyoung has truly, truly _lived_ his life.

There’s nothing for him to latch onto anymore. His family is long gone, most of his friends too, and those who still lingered will be joining him sooner or later.

So when he dies, Doyoung regrets absolutely nothing.

And as much as he’d like to articulate the feeling of dying elaborately, it’s not dramatic. It’s not cinematic. It’s not sad.

It just...is.

One second Doyoung’s walking down the narrow streets to check on his informant, and the next, the world goes black and he’s on the ground, eyes open and blood pooling under his head.

Nope. Absolutely nothing special about it.

Death comes and claims what it will, and leaves behind nothing but a corpse and memories.

* * *

_“None of this should’ve happened,” Taeyong sobs, falling to his knees before the Border. He leans dangerously close to the electrified fencing, and Doyoung has to pull him back before he pitches head-first into 10,000 volts of electricity and becomes human barbecue._

_The Border is a wasteland, to put it simply. Kilometers upon kilometers of electric fences and land mines on the barren field lead up to the barrier caging in the entirety of the county. That doesn’t stop them though, because Doyoung knows how to navigate around the land mines, and Taeyong has the leverage of curiosity on his side._

_Now, watching Taeyong weep and smelling the familiar burnt scent of the electrified fencing, Doyoung wishes that he never caved to his friend’s request._

_On the fence before them, stabbed onto the pointed tops looming over twenty meters over their heads, are the remains of captured insurgents, criminals, and outsiders._

_And directly above them, in the midst of the newest batch of remains with hair still attached to the heads, is a face they both know too well. The shock of white is hard to miss, a trademark amongst their close group of friends._

_Yuta has always been beautiful._

* * *

The afterlife officials didn’t have to show Doyoung his entire life from birth to death on tape, including the nitty bitty grisly details, but apparently there’s regulations and procedures in death, too.

“Doyoung Kim, age 27, cause of death: single bullet wound to the head,” one official reads, scrolling through his tablet. “Is that correct?”

Like seriously. 

_Tablets._

Either this is a joke, or the afterlife is literally just life but bleaker and with a bunch of monotonous assholes sitting at a long desk interviewing him.

“Yes, that’s correct.”

A second official hums, looking over his own tablet. There’s no clock in the plain conference room, but Doyoung honestly thinks that at least fifteen minutes have passed since he suddenly appeared in this chair. And for all that time, none of the three officials have even raised their eyes off their stupid tablets to look at him. 

Yep. Just like life.

“In your life, you have been charged with arson, theft, murder, manslaughter, vehicular manslaughter, vandalism, cyberstalking, stalking, embezzlement, and causing a national security breach,” the third official reads. “Quite the list, wouldn’t you say?”

Doyoung snorts, tugging at a link of chain on his leather jacket. “I’ve got nothing to say.”

“In addition to that,” the first official says. “You have fought for a noble cause, saved hundreds of innocent civilians from a mass shooting, advocated for the oppressed populations, educated those who aren’t privileged with formal schooling, and raised three children off the streets.”

 _Jeno, Jaemin, and Jisung_ , Doyoung thinks. They were only tiny kids when Doyoung first saw them on the streets, and they were all teenagers when Doyoung died. Raising the little devils had arguably been the best and worst ten years of Doyoung’s life, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t love the little rascals. Now that they’re grown, Doyoung sincerely hopes that wherever in the world the trio are, that they’re at least safe and well.

And that above all else, they won’t know that he’s dead.

“So, that puts us at a standstill.” All three officials lean forward, finally meeting eyes with Doyoung. Or they would’ve, had they any actual eyes.

Doyoung shifts his gaze between each set of black holes in turn, gauging the gaunt, ashen faces for any expression. He wouldn’t say it’s unnerving, but it’s pretty damn unnerving to just see three eyeless faces staring straight at him.

“So, Doyoung,” the second official says, lacing his fingers under his chin. “You have a choice.”

“A rare opportunity,” the third official adds.

“A once-in-a century chance,” the first finishes.

Doyoung nods. “Do tell.”

“Instead of assigning you direct entry into Heaven or Hell, we’ll let you choose between the two realms,” the second official explains. “Your life portfolio is simply too balanced with good and evil. You sinned a great deal, but you sinned with purpose.”

“Thank you,” Doyoung deadpans.

“So.” All three officials gesture simultaneously at the two doors on either side of the room. The one to Doyoung’s left is pure white with a smooth ivory handle, and the one to his right is pitch black with a carved ebony handle.

“Heaven or Hell, Doyoung. The choice is yours.”

Doyoung has never been an indecisive person, and somewhere in the back of his mind, he can hear Johnny’s voice telling him to just butt into this choice headfirst and deal with the consequences later.

Dear, dear Johnny with his wisecracks and knack for making terrible, life-threatening decisions. Had he not died three years before Doyoung, he thinks that at this point, Johnny would for sure be trying to hunt down whoever murdered him and torture them to death, because Johnny’s just thoughtful like that.

“Well, considering I’ve metaphorically already been to Hell and back,” Doyoung says as he stands from his seat. “Guess it’s my time to return.”

“You are certain about your choice?” the first official asks, eyeles face tracing Doyoung’s every movement. “Once you pass through a door, there is no return. Souls that enter Hell have no chance of reincarnation or redemption.”

Doyoung shrugs. “From my personal experience, there is no Hell like living life. I’m not looking to be reborn into that shitstorm again. I did what I did, and I won’t take back any of it.”

“Nothing at all? Is that so?”

“Down to the last bastard I strangled with my bare hands,” Doyoung affirms, flexing his fingers with each word. “No, not a damn thing.”

“You have no interest in a potentially better life once you’re reborn?”

“Life is never ‘better’,” Doyoung replies drily. “It’s shit for everyone, just at different points and times, and to different degrees. I’ve done my time, and that’s enough for me.”

The three officials exchange a blank glance, seemingly discussing something telepathically, before finally nodding in unison.

“Very well, Doyoung Kim. You may enter your afterlife now.”

Doyoung doesn’t need to be told twice. He turns right on his heel and walks towards the black door, ignoring the glances the officials send him. The handle is cold and chiseled in his hand, and Doyoung doesn’t give himself the chance to hesitate before turning it and pulling the door open.

* * *

_“One day Neo Culture Technology will be in history lessons,” Jaehyun says as he checks his gun. “We’re living out of a chapter in history, Doyoung.”_

_“Correction,” Doyoung says, not looking away from the codes he’s processing. “We’re making history.”_

_“Everything’s always gotta be so technical with you.”_

_Doyoung scoffs, taking a gulp of his energy drink. He hasn’t slept in over two days, but hacking a government database is no small project. He can’t afford to lose time to sleep when he’s just so, so fucking close to exposing the corruption within the system. The sooner he can publicly broadcast all the crimes the government has committed and hidden from the people, the sooner the revolution can be fueled._

_“When the Headquarters fall, the nation will finally realize who holds the true power,” Doyoung hisses._

_“Of course.” Jaehyun smirks, slinging his gun over his shoulder. “The people.”_

_“The people,” Doyoung agrees. “They can’t keep us quiet forever. Justice will be served, one way or another.”_

_“And if blood is shed?”_

_“Then I suggest those government assholes think about something,” Doyoung snaps, pulling up a holographic video of the riots and protests happening all across the country. Jaehyun watches, expression deadpan as police violently throw peaceful protestors to the ground and spray entire groups with liquid fire. There’s no audio to the hologram, but it’s still possible to hear all the screaming._

_“Why does it always have to come down to violence before our voices are heard?” Jaehyun mutters darkly._

_Doyoung stares unmovingly as a horde of national police beats a group of young protestors with shock batons. Blood spatters the ground as people scatter, chased by vicious attack dogs and being shot at with plasti-pellets._

_“Why?” he says dully, watching as the public continues to degenerate into madness. “Because sometimes the loudest messages are said on dying breaths, Jaehyun. Nobody hears the living, but everyone hears the dead.”_

* * *

Contrary to popular belief (and his own), Hell isn’t burning hot and a complete wasteland of fire and destruction.

Hell is a city.

And a pretty decent one at that.

There’s skyscrapers and apartment buildings and shops, and they look exactly like those that Doyoung has seen in life. The sky above is a rich maroon instead of blue, but that’s something Doyoung will just have to eventually get used to. He doesn’t see any demons with horns on their heads or wings on their backs as he makes his way down the street he stepped into.

All the beings he sees are just people—just plain, normal people. They talk in a medley of different languages, but everyone seems to understand each other, and the busy cityscape has all the sounds of a thriving metropolitan area, just without the bombs and gunshots Doyoung has grown used to. Nobody pays him any mind as he strolls around aimlessly. Nobody starts trouble or kills someone else right there in the open.

So far, there’s absolutely nothing hellish about Hell besides the sky. It’s not sweltering hot or blistering cold, and Doyoung isn’t sure if his insensitivity to temperature is due to him being dead or if it’s just another aspect of this afterlife.

He has absolutely no idea where to go, but his instincts direct him to a tall apartment complex across the street, and if there is one thing Doyoung has learned in life, it’s to always trust his intuition.

It’s a rather short walk to the building, but once he enters it, Doyoung loses all sense of where he should go. There has to be at least twenty stories to the building from what he could see from the outside, and now, standing in the grand lobby with nobody around but a receptionist and a couple unfamiliar people, Doyoung is lost.

“Well, well, look who we have here.”

That fucking _voice_. Doyoung would recognize that gentle, slow drawl anywhere.

“Johnny fucking Seo.” Doyoung turns around just in time to see Johnny make his way towards him, a wide smile on his face and hands tucked into the pockets of his black jeans.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Johnny says, eyeing Doyoung up and down as he approaches him. “Damn. How long has it been? Two years? Three?”

“Three years, seven months, and eighteen days,” Doyoung says, returning Johnny’s smile. “You just had to go and get yourself blown up, you reckless bastard."

Johnny laughs and brings forth an arm to wrap Doyoung in a hug with. The touch is warm and familiar and Doyoung melts into it, bringing his own arms around Johnny’s waist to hug him close.

“Fuck, I missed you, Johnny,” he sighs into Johnny’s shoulder. “I missed you so fucking much.”

“I missed you too, Doyoung.” Johnny pulls away briefly to look Doyoung in the eye. “How’s everything back there? How’s the kids?”

“Well, the world is still going to shit and people are dying at alarming rates, but what else is new?” Doyoung takes in the rueful smile that crosses Johnny’s face. It’s a haunted expression, and Doyoung understands the trauma behind it too well. “The kids are fine, though. I think. Jeno and Jaemin turned 17 this year and Jisung’s 15 now. They’re taking care of each other, I’m sure.”

Johnny whistles. “Wow, already? How time flies.”

“Easily, with the constant threat of bombs looming over your head.”

“Ha. Don’t we all love that?” Johnny gestures to the elevator behind him. “C’mon, let’s head to my flat. We’ve got a lot to catch up on, don’t we?”

“Yeah.” Doyoung follows Johnny to the elevator, and watches the numbers above the doors slowly change. “So, who else is here?”

“Yuta, Jaehyun, and Ten. They all live here, y’know? Though I can’t tell you their exact whereabouts right this minute. We can visit them all later.”

“No Mark?”

Johnny looks surprised. “No. I haven’t seen him since the day I died. I thought he’s still alive somewhere back there.”

Doyoung shakes his head, scanning through his memories for the bright-eyed boy in question. “Nobody’s seen him in years, Johnny. He went MIA after the Chain Riot at the county’s capital two weeks after you left us.”

“Well, if he ain’t here, and he ain’t back there, he’s probably in Heaven.” Johnny frowns, pulling out his phone and scrolling through it. “Though I’m sure someone over there would’ve told me something.”

Phones.

They have phones here in Hell too. These similarities are starting to become uncanny.

“So maybe he’s alive after all,” Doyoung quips.

“Maybe.”

The elevator dings its arrival, and they enter its shiny gold interior. Johnny presses the button for the thirteenth floor, and Doyoung internally rolls his eyes at how stereotypical it is. The ride up is smooth and silent, and Doyoung takes the time to really _look_ at Johnny. He looks exactly the same as the day he died—auburn hair, peeks of tattoos from under his t-shirt, and an easy, calm smile on his face. 

It hurts him to admit it, but Doyoung really missed Johnny. The last few years of his life have been harsh, and without Johnny there to help support and ground him, Doyoung’s actions have almost spiraled dangerously out of control. Back when he had Johnny, killing had been more out of necessity. After he was gone, Doyoung associated the term ‘murder’ very loosely with ‘self-righteous vengeance’.

Small wonder how he ended up dead and in Hell now.

They arrive at Johnny’s floor, and the taller man leads them to a door in the middle of the corridor, unlocking it and holding it open for Doyoung to enter.

“Newcomers first.”

“What a gentleman.” Doyoung takes the invitation, and steps into the apartment. Its interior is minimalist and modern in design, but the space is completely decked out in furniture and art and all the other knick-knacks that reminds him of Johnny.

There’s an entire wall of polaroids alone, and it amuses Doyoung to know that even in death, Johnny never gave up his lifelong hobby. A couple plants he’s never seen before rest in pots by the large sliding window, and a handsome collection of different coffees line the kitchen counter. Doyoung almost forgot what coffee tastes like, since it was an imported product, which made it extremely rare in his county.

But here, there seems to be no shortage of anything.

In another life, another dimension maybe, this would be the perfect life for them. Just living in an apartment complex with the rest of their friends, without worrying about a civil war or dying every time they step foot outdoors. A nice, simple life of drinking coffee, having a more standard job, and raising children properly. 

“Surprised?” Johnny asks, heading into the kitchen and pulling out two short glasses from a cabinet. “Believe me, I was too when I first got here.”

“It’s literally a dreamland compared to the shitstorm brewing back there,” Doyoung mutters, running his fingers over the polished granite countertop. “I thought Hell’s supposed to be a place of eternal punishment or whatever.”

“Oh, it is,” Johnny says. “But there’s a special place in Hell for that. Like, at least four levels down or so. That’s reserved for the true assholes and sadists. Us, we’re just skimming its top.”

“So where exactly are we?”

“Limbo,” Johnny answers. He brings out a small bottle of whiskey, and pours a generous amount into each glass. “It’s Hell, but like, the part where most people go to. We sure ain’t no saints, but we aren’t hardcore sinners either, y’know?”

Doyoung arches a brow judgmentally. “Excuse me, are you forgetting who you’re talking to?”

“Hey, if your goodness didn’t balance out your sins, you wouldn’t be here,” Johnny counters. “Give yourself some credit, Doyoung. You’re an asshole, but you’re not a complete asshole.”

Doyoung hums, taking the glass offered to him. “So...literally just a second life. But less chaotic than actual life.”

Johnny nods his agreement, taking a small gulp of the liquor. “Yep. Honestly, I think it’s a pretty sweet deal. We spend the rest of eternity living a calm life that we otherwise would’ve had when we were actually, well, alive.”

Doyoung pauses as he’s bringing his glass to his lips. “Wait.”

“Hm?”

“Are there taxes here too?” Doyoung asks, dead serious.

A beat of silence passes before Johnny laughs. It’s the loud, genuine kind of laugh that has him throwing his head back and flailing his free arm around. “You just died and came to Hell, and taxes are what you’re worried about?” he chortles.

“Hey, I thought that death is the only time I can evade paying taxes anymore,” Doyoung snaps. “Answer me, Johnny. Are there taxes or not?”

“What the hell would the afterlife even need taxes for?” Johnny chuckles, stepping out of the kitchen and towards the living room. “There’s nothing worth paying taxes for. Whatever’s here is here, and nothing ever happens to it.”

“No infrastructure or jobs that need tax money to pay for?”

“Nope.” Johnny plops down on an armchair and gestures to the one opposite the coffee table. “Come, sit. I’ll answer all your Hell-y questions while we’re at it.”

Doyoung sits, feeling himself sink into the plush chair. It’s a luxury he never had before, and he takes his time enjoying the comfort, sipping at his whiskey and tasting it as it burns down his throat.

“So,” he begins. “We’re in Hell. Do you happen to know anyone who got into Heaven?”

Johnny nods, taking a sip of his own drink. “Yeah. A couple of ours, actually.”

Doyoung looks at Johnny past the rim of his glass. “Some of us actually got the other realm, huh?”

“Yeah. I mean, from what I’ve heard, Jungwoo went to Heaven.”

“No surprise there. Bless his heart.”

“So did Taeil.”

“Well, I wouldn’t expect any less from them.” Doyoung sets his drink down. “How do you know all of this, anyways?”

Johnny pulls up his phone. “We text, duh.”

“Of course.” Doyoung has absolutely no idea how inter-realm communication works in the afterlife, but he decides to trust Johnny, since the other already has over three years on him in death.

“Y’know, Jungwoo says that he and Taeil are trying for reincarnation.”

“Really? Why?”

“Well, he says, and I quote,” Johnny reads. “We’re gonna try to be reborn so we can sin ourselves to Hell in our next lives and come find you suckers.”

“That’s sweet of him.” Doyoung sighs. “Shit, I miss them, Johnny.”

“I do too. Jungwoo and Taeil didn’t deserve to go so soon.” Johnny sets down his phone and meets Doyoung’s eyes again. “You were alive when they died. You know how they went.”

Doyoung does know. He remembers the early winter firebombing of their county, the smoke and ashes polluting the air around him, and Jisung crying in his arms as they all ran for their lives. 

* * *

_“Papa! Papa!”_

_“It’s gonna be okay, Sungie. It’s gonna be okay.” Doyoung vaults over a fallen portion of wall, Jisung firmly clutched to his chest. From the corner of his eyes, he can see Jaemin and Jeno do the same, the two young teens agile and quick on their feet as buildings collapse around them._

_“Jaemin, Jeno, take Jisung and go find Taeil at the mag!” Doyoung shouts, dodging a burning pillar as he runs. “Now!”_

_“Papa, what about you?” Jeno screams, already running ahead as Jaemin takes Jisung from Doyoung’s arms._

_“Don’t worry about me, kid! Just go!”_

_Jeno and Jaemin take off without another word, and Doyoung diverts from his immediate path, scooping up an injured toddler off the dirt road and pushing past the small crowds running towards the magno-tubes._

_“Jungwoo! Taeil!” he calls, spotting the two men in the distance. They’re both under the cover of the shatterproof overhang by the magno-tube station, working furiously to get as many people underground as possible._

_Jungwoo, prominent and bright despite the soot smeared on his skin and tears in his clothing, is screaming for the children to get into the nearest tubes. Taeil was by the tubes’ openings, ushering in groups of people into the elevator-like compartment._

_“Get this kid in!” Doyoung shouts, handing the toddler to a nearby woman as she’s pushed into a tube by Taeil. “Send them down!”_

_Taeil presses his hand to the scanning mechanism off the side of the tube, and the doors slam shut before shooting down into the ground._

_“What the hell is there even left to burn?” Taeil grits out, moving onto the next tube and ushering in people to the maximum capacity. “Haven’t they had enough? What did we do to deserve this?”_

_Doyoung scoffs as he helps an elderly woman into the tube. “What did we do? We exist, that’s what! We have a voice and we used it!”_

_The mechanic meets his eyes over his shoulder. “They’re cowards.”_

_“Say it louder for the people in the back, Taeil!” Doyoung sends him a nod. “Send her down!”_

_Taeil works quickly, and barely manages to send the tube down before a firebomb explodes somewhere behind them. Doyoung is sent pitching forward into the dirt from the force of its impact, and Taeil is blown back as well, body hitting the station’s concrete exterior with a thud._

_“Doyoung!”_

_Doyoung pushes himself onto his elbows, throwing off a chunk of concrete that was crushing his ankle. “Woo! Taeil!” he calls, blinking blearily through the dust and smoke. “Where are you?”_

_“Get up!” Strong hands grab onto Doyoung’s arms and hoist him up, and he’s pulled towards one of the magno-tubes. His ears are ringing and there’s something warm and wet dripping down his face, but all Doyoung can focus on is the sight of burning buildings, fire, and motionless bodies scattered all around the streets._

_It’s a haunted scene, full of death and destruction, and the last thing Doyoung sees before being pushed into a magno-tube himself is Jungwoo’s face, tear-streaked and resigned as the world burns around him._

_“Stay safe, okay Doyoung? You can’t come up until the tracers flash green,” he says softly, right before the doors of the tube slide shut._

_Doyoung whirls around in panic, slapping his hands against the clear panels of the tube. “Woo! You can’t! You need to come with us!”_

_Jungwoo shakes his head. “There’s too many people heading to the bunkers already. Taeil and I will find a way to get out of this and see you later.”_

_“No!” Doyoung’s heart is pounding against his ribcage as Jungwoo begins backing away. “Woo! No! You’ll die! You can’t!”_

_Jungwoo’s smile is shaky as he waves goodbye. “Take care, Doyoung.”_

_“Jungwoo!” his cries are cut off as the tube suddenly descends, its acceleration almost knocking Doyoung off his feet. The surroundings become pitch black in the matter of seconds, and Doyoung is thankful for the cover, because even if people can hear, nobody can see him sobbing his heart out._

_And nobody does._

_By the time Doyoung emerged from the underground bunkers and into open air again, there’s no trace of Jungwoo or Taeil._

_They were just...gone._

* * *

Johnny’s gaze is gentle and sympathetic as Doyoung finishes recounting what had happened. He knows it just as well as Doyoung how dangerous their lives were. Being a part of an insurgent group, especially with their paranoia-driven government, is just asking to have their lives cut short.

But if they didn’t act out, who will?

“They died heroes,” Johnny murmurs, drawing Doyoung’s attention back to him. “Jungwoo and Taeil are happy that you and the kids managed to stay safe for that much longer.”

“Well, it’s just the kids now,” Doyoung sighs. “Considering I’m here and all.” 

“Isn’t Taeyong still back there?” Johnny asks curiously.

“Yeah. I was actually killed on my way to see him.”

“Shit, really?”

Doyoung chuckles hollowly. “The gov knew who I was, Johnny. They’ve been trying to kill me for weeks at that point. Looks like they finally succeeded.”

“They’re bigger dumbasses than I thought if they think killing you is gonna stop anything,” Johnny says with a smirk. “You can’t quell a revolution by killing the pioneers. Gouge out a hawk’s eyes, and they’ll still bite. Muzzle a dog, and they’ll still fight.”

Doyoung returns the smirk, feeling a perverse smugness fill him at the thought of the revolution they have started. Sure, the government managed to kill a good deal of them, including their main spies and now, their top hacker, but Doyoung’s confident Taeyong will find a way to rally the remaining members together for their ultimate attack.

If those bastards think they can instill fear in Taeyong, they have another thing coming. Yuta and Jaehyun may have been behind most of the violent and deadly attacks on the counties’ capitals, but if Doyoung can trust anyone to have more bloodlust than even the two brawlers, it would be the underground informant.

“Oh, Taeyong is going to kill them all,” Doyoung sneers. “He’ll blow up entire capitals all the way down to the Headquarters and Donghyuck will scorch our oppressors until even their bones turn into ash.”

Johnny grins lopsidedly. “What is it with all of you becoming more and more insane after I died?”

“Well...you died.”

“Fair point. Speaking of which—” Johnny leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “—did they do the whole interview thing with you?”

“Ugh. Yeah, they did. And even gave me a choice at the end.” 

Johnny’s brows shoot up into his bangs. “A choice?” 

Doyoung shrugs. “Yeah. Between Heaven or Hell. Guess they thought I was too complex a case to just send off wherever.”

“With all the shit you did?” Johnny feigns shock, and it would be pretty believable if Doyoung doesn’t already know how much bullshit Johnny pulls.

“Amazing how divine judgement works,” Doyoung replies nonchalantly. “We sin for all the right and wrong reasons. We’re not good people, Johnny.”

“No, but we’re human, which is better by default.”

“That we are.”

“So then, why’re you here?”

Doyoung’s not sure exactly what Johnny’s asking for. He’s in Hell because he chose it, so there’s really not much else to add to it. The officials gave him a choice, and Doyoung took his pick. 

“I chose to be here, Johnny.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Johnny says, swirling the remainder of his whiskey around in his glass. “Not that I’m not glad to see you, ‘cause believe me, I am. But you had the chance to go to Heaven. Why didn’t you?”

“You kiddin’ me?” Doyoung leans back in his seat. “The only thing good about Heaven is the fuckin’ view. I came to Hell for the company.”

Johnny grins, the cheeky bastard, and Doyoung resists the urge to just punch that smile off his face. He’s done it before when they were both alive, and he’s waited three years for the opportunity to present itself again. It’d be a waste to not take full advantage of it.

“Ow,” Johnny complains when Doyoung leans forward and whoops him one across the cheek. His head doesn’t move with the slap and the abused skin doesn’t redden and bruise like it would normally. Johnny doesn’t even look like he’s in pain when Doyoung settles back into his seat, his expression more amused than anything else.

“You deserved that,” Doyoung sniffs. “And I’ve waited too long to give that to you.”

Johnny hums smugly. “Just say you missed us, Doyoung. C’mon, it’s not that hard to admit.”

“I technically just did that, Johnny. Or were you not listening?”

“I know, I know.” Johnny relaxes back into his own seat, spreading his hands disarmingly. “But now, you’re here. Welcome to Hell. You made it. What are you gonna do now?”

Doyoung smirks, bringing his glass up again. “Well, what else is there to do? We’re in Hell. This is our life now. We’re all dead and in Hell for eternity.” He shrugs loosely. “End of story.”

Johnny quirks a brow. “You don’t miss life itself? Your kids? Finding Mark?”

Doyoung waves off his questions. None of what Johnny says can apply to him anymore, even if he wanted it to. 

Mark going missing had been the biggest mystery of Doyoung’s life, and of course he wants to find the boy, but if years spent searching around various counties turns up nothing, it’s safe to guess that Mark’s probably dead. However, after dying and coming to the afterlife and finding out that Mark’s still missing, Doyoung can only assume that for whatever reason, Mark just doesn’t want to be found. 

And as much as Doyoung wants to see his kids, again—he’s dead and they’re alive. And he hopes, for their sake, that they stay alive for much, much longer. 

If Doyoung sees any of his kids in Hell or hears that they’re in Heaven before they turn at least 30, he’s going to throw a riot.

“Life is over for us,” Doyoung says quietly. “Those issues are left with the living. Us dead people, we don’t deal with what we can’t control.”

“But you still miss them.” 

It’s not a question. Johnny’s watching him expectantly, and Doyoung feels the weight of the statement settle over them. There’s a lot of meaning to those five words, and it strikes at the most human part of him—the part that still holds the memories and love for those in life and in death.

“Yeah, I do,” Doyoung admits. “I miss my boys. I miss Taeyong and Kun. I miss Mark.”

“And you want to find him,” Johnny observes quietly. “You want to know where Mark is.”

Doyoung sighs heavily. “Nobody can trap a ghost, Johnny. We all lost something. Someone. If they can’t raise us from the dead, then Mark doesn’t want to be found.”

“Why do you think he disappeared?”

“A better question would be: why not?” Doyoung counters gravely. “We lived in a war zone, Johnny. Riots. Bombings. Assassinations. Our own family and friends were taken away from us and decapitated so their heads can be used as warnings towards the rest of us. Kids were tortured and beaten to demonstrate power. What reason did Mark have for wanting to stay?”

Johnny frowns, and it’s a terrible expression on him, in Doyoung’s opinion. He hates how deeply furrowed Johnny’s brows are, how his lips are pinched into a thin line, and how the lines marring his forehead makes him look years older. It's an unnatural look.

“It’s not because of me, is it?” Johnny says after a moment of silence. “Did he disappear because of me?”

Doyoung’s unliving heart breaks a little at the sight of Johnny upset. Part of him wants to comfort Johnny and assure him that Mark vanishing has nothing to do with his death, but at the same time, the other part wants to just tell Johnny to stop being an idiot and blaming himself.

“I guess the only way to find out is to wait for him to die and join us here,” Doyoung finally replies. “You can ask him in person then.”

“I see why you decided to come to Hell, Doyoung,” Johnny says flatly. “You wouldn’t belong anywhere else.”

“Of course not.” Doyoung sets his empty glass aside and levels a stare at Johnny. There’s a certain intensity between them, a tension that’s seen its time and stretches back all the way to when they were both living. 

Unfinished business.

Johnny left them all too soon—too suddenly. Nobody saw it coming, even when everybody knew how delicate the balance between life and death is for them. One moment he’s hugging people and promising a treat for the kids, and the next, there’s reports of a chemical explosion in the school Johnny works at.

They never retrieved the body.

All Doyoung could get his hands on—all that there was left for him to even get his hands on—is a link of chain that once draped over Johnny’s favorite jacket.

It’s just one of those things that’s hard to believe actually happened until almost a week has passed, and suddenly the reality of it all just slams together into one massive hit of pure agony.

People never realize the blessings they have in their life until it’s gone.

Taken away.

Stolen.

* * *

_“I haven’t seen your kids around for a while,” Kun notes as he passes through the creaky door into Doyoung’s flat. “Where are they?”_

_Doyoung shrugs, hunched over his laptop, pulling up a diagram from the screen to be suspended in the air above him. There’s a lot of space around him now—too much space. It’s almost unnatural considering the chaos and noise constantly surrounding him for the past decade._

_“Left.”_

_“Left?” Kun gasps, almost dropping the supplies in his hands. “How? They—they’re only boys! Did something happen?”_

_“Nothing happened,” Doyoung sighs, watching the hologram rotate slowly. “They left.”_

_Kun huffs, clearly disturbed. “Doyoung, there has to be a reason for them to just up and leave.”_

_“No.” The hologram shrinks back into the screen, and Doyoung watches the numbers and maps scramble into an incoherent mess. “There doesn’t have to be. They just left, Kun. Simple.”_

_“You’re a damn liar.”_

_“The best.”_

_Doyoung smiles, and sees the tightness of his own lips in Kun’s eyes. He should feel guilty. He should confide in his close friend the truth. He owes Kun that much._

_But he doesn’t._

_Because above all else—Doyoung is a parent._

_Kun should understand._

* * *

There’s a lot of things from life that Doyoung misses.

He misses seeing his boys. He misses Jaemin jumping on him to wake him up, even as a teenager. He misses Jeno’s eyesmiles and delicious cooking. He misses Jisung and his pure, optimistic outlook on the world, even when the world is always out to kill him.

Doyoung misses Taeyong and the rest of their group. He misses late-night visits from Kun and his children, and having the man as a babysitter for when he's too busy with work. He misses Jungwoo and Taeil and having them over for dinner every Friday night. He misses Donghyuck, the little rascal, and his pure analytical genius. 

He misses Mark, whose bold and passionate ideas have been the backbone of their entire organization. Whose voice carried out their cause from their county all the way to the sub-capital cities. Who never backed down from a challenge and retaliated with everything he’s got and then some.

Who disappeared out of nowhere and never came back.

Doyoung misses a lot of people.

He doesn’t miss Life.

Death is here. Death has always been here, and it’s the final destination. Life had been nothing but a pit stop.

And what a short, horrible, violent pit stop it was.

There’s no memorabilia of Doyoung’s on him. No photos, trinkets, nothing to remind him of the life he once lived. 

There are only memories, a phone in his pocket with a contact list full of dead people, and an apartment flat decorated exactly according to his tastes but with nothing in it to show that it actually belongs to _him_.

He is in Death.

Hell is only a place, but Death is where Doyoung is in for the rest of eternity.

And it’s here that he sees dear Johnny again, with his disarming smile and calm voice.

It’s here that Yuta is in one piece and Jaehyun doesn’t have twenty-two bullet holes through his body.

It’s here that Ten still pulls his pranks and can now actually run away freely on his own two legs.

It is in Death that Doyoung learns how to live a proper life. He learns to be a proper person, to enjoy the pleasures he never had when he was living, and to relax, because there are no more air raids or shootings or bombings.

In Death, there are no counties and no social hierarchy set by a corrupt, power-hungry government. There are no people who suffer disproportionately solely based on what region of the country they live in. There is no lack of resources or fighting others to stay alive.

Death does not discriminate.

And Doyoung wonders, as he watches Hell’s bustling cities from behind his apartment window, what it would take for Life to be the same.

Can anyone ever be truly safe in Life? Truly content? Truly equal?

Maybe, maybe not.

Maybe NCT will prevail and overthrow the standing government. Maybe they’ll create a better, greater government to serve all the people’s needs.

And maybe NCT will fail and everything they’ve ever fought for will come burning to the ground like their homes.

It’s a gamble. Life has always been a gamble, and the stakes are higher than they’ve ever been. People’s lives, freedom, and futures are all on the line. One mistake, one wrong word, one deceitful person, and everything Doyoung once knew could be lost.

There are a lot of problems with the world as he knew it. A lot of grievances. A lot of mysteries.

But Doyoung is a dead man, and those issues are for the living.

**Author's Note:**

> I DO NOT CONDONE VIOLENCE, VIOLENT BEHAVIOR, OR ANY HARM AGAINST OTHERS. 
> 
> Hope y'all had a good read, and comments and kudos are always appreciated!! :)
> 
> [cc](https://curiouscat.me/Cydersyrup)  
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